The day and I told them it would be bad
But they scoffed and refused to believe
They insisted on doing things their foolish way
Proving they were war zone plebes
So, hours after we were cleared and supposed
to traverse the lone gate letting all in
They finally rolled in haughty, boastful, dumb and blind
Committing all war zone sins
Of course, the Legionnaires made us wait
They were wise to the tricks of those
As each second passed the day scorned more
Preparing to unleash its woes
And then it did, to the stun of all
except of course to me
I’ve gone that route again and again
Through each pore I could clearly see
The onslaught was the stuff of Tennyson
the fools realizing they caused their doom
with rockets and bullets and dirt and swirl
the panic, the fear just zoomed
Then - BANG -- the truck rocked and was now aflame
and the driver slumped, out cold
My face, my arms, my legs did bear the blows
Yet now the day said “be bold”
Shrapnel flew like confetti
to each uncovered part
The searing fire drove deep inside,
to fry as it tore me apart
The strangling smoke clouded and mocked my senses
as I tried to steady the crush
I checked and all limbs were still attached
even while the blood so gushed
Ears ringing loud, legs buckling quick
To decide was not in doubt
It is a dash all by one’s self?
Or should I carry the driver out?
The latter choice indeed was made
as bullets continued to fly
dragging him slowly, his bulk a sinker
Bullets taunting as they whistled by
Blood covers the eyes, the knees do falter
the helmet takes a graze
Then suddenly safety is closer, waving the way
The Legionnaires through the haze.
They grabbed us and hugged us and took us away
to where they laid me on a table
They dug out the shrapnel, with no anesthesia
it was the only way they were able
Then hours later, when the searing stopped
the tripped-out dreams went wildly flying
Until they brought couscous and red wine
And finally, I knew I was not dying
It took little time after that
by those who only play
You were just slightly wounded they would note
is like being slightly pregnant I would say.
So quick the flash that dreary afternoon
it is so far in the past
Yet each creak, each clap, each next gun shot
means it will always, always last